


Love hurts

by shelikescookies



Series: Cookie's Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Except Jason doesn't know it's mutual, M/M, Mutual Pining, Near Death Experiences, Stabbing, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 20:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20954747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelikescookies/pseuds/shelikescookies
Summary: Whumptober 2019 — Days 8 + 17: Stab Wound + "Stay with me""I'm sorry," the young man blurts out and wipes a hand down his face, leaving a bloody trail. "I didn't see him, I'm so sorry! I should've — of course, he had a knife! I'm sorry, Jay, I'm sorry!"Oh. A knife. Well, that certainly explains the searing pain as ifstabbed. Go figure.





	Love hurts

There's always this certain beauty — this special little _something_ about the way Red Robin carries his weight in a fight, how he channels his strength to the perfect ratio of delivering justice and letting his own personal anger out on those who wronged others. Distant, but passionate. Aggressive, but knowing when to take a step back and wait for his foe to strike first. 

Above all, though, he thinks two steps ahead and that's what makes his maneuvers so… confident. Tim will win the fight, because he outsmarts them, hits harder, dodges faster. 

He's simply better than them. 

Jason scoffs behind the safety of his helmet. Yeah, Tim is pretty good, a worthy opponent. Might even kick his butt on a good day — not that Jason could be payed to admit that out loud, oh no. Nothing but snark for Red Robin from the Red Hood. Predecessor to replacement. It's kinda their thing. 

As he sits there, up above on the metal beam of the warehouse, casually reloading his guns — stocking them with rubber pallets, because no matter how prone this little bird could get to violence and murder, he'll never let Jason live it down, if he killed a guy on his watch, on his case. No, sir, he actually prefers the no-drama-zone as it is, thank you. 

Several feet under him, the noises rise, among the thugs Jason continuously hears the grunts from Tim as more and more punches from the men hit their mark, and Jason snarls. Red Robin may be a force of nature, but underneath all that, he's still just a teenager and he's bound to get exhausted after the third wave of criminals that just won't stop! 

Deciding he's seen enough, Jason flips off the safety catch of his gun, checks if the chain he has tied around the beam is _indeed_ secure and takes a breath. 

With a loud shout he jumps down the beam, using the chain to prevent him from slamming straight to the ground. This way he swings graciously, landing next to Red Robin, right onto a thug who came charging for him. 

The whole fight stops for a second, everyone perplexed as to what just happened and _did that guy really jump from the ceiling? _

Tim pants, his hands shaking on the staff. "Where did _you_ come from?", he asks bewildered, eyes wide behind the mask. 

Jason sends him a feral grin he can't see, but he makes sure he hears it. "Heaven, baby." 

He cocks his gun, aiming it just an inch besides Tim's head and shoots at the guy standing behind him. Tim visibly flinches and ducks his head, staring at Jason in disapproval. 

"Asshole," Tim hisses and Jason's distorted laugh echoes through the warehouse. 

"Oops." 

They have been given no time before the first men raise their clubs and bats to storm at them. Simultaneously the vigilantes knock them out with a well-placed punch to the head, before Tim readies his bo staff one more time, strengthening his grip, while Jason shakes the hurt out of knuckles (fucking piercings!) and takes a look around the tough guys surrounding them, including the ones already passed out. 

"Come on, is that all?", he yells at them and hears Tim sigh behind him, followed by the same fighting noises from before, only this time he got to join in. 

Fighting side by side with Red Robin feels like a choreography, deeply ingrained in their DNA, moving in perfect synch, downing thugs left and right. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees Tim struggling with a man twice his size, but there's already another one charging at him. Jason grits his teeth. No way! He kicks his own opponent in the knee, rips the baseball bat out of his hands and knocks him back with it. The man goes down with a grunt and Jason spins around. 

_"Duck!" _

Trusting him blindly (Jason _will_ evaluate later how that makes his belly tingle in a silly way), Tim drops, confusing not only the man he's fighting, but also reveals the sucker behind him. Now with a clear a view, Jason takes a big swing and launches the bat at his head. 

The man probably got a concussion from the hit, but Jason couldn't care less as the last man standing currently tries to make Red Robin submit to him. Jason aims steadily, not wanting to hit Tim by accident and shoots the man. The shot stuns him, saving Tim precious seconds to overpower the thug and knock him out with the staff. 

Tim slumps over, propped up on his knees and takes the hard-fought victory to take a few deep breaths. 

Being a little less out of breath, Jason chuckles at his own joke. "'Duck'. Get it?" 

"Ha ha. Very funny." Tim rolls his eyes, but Jason sees the faint smile on his lips. The younger man nods up at the ceiling. "Where _did_ you come from? How long have you been up there?" 

"Oh, c'mon, like you're not happy to see me." 

"No, actually that's just my bo staff in my pocket." 

They share a quick laugh where Jason pats Tim's back in good will — and in an excuse to touch him. 

"Seriously though."

Jason merely shrugs his shoulder. "Heard some guys saying Red Robin's beating up their friends in a warehouse and thought I'd come say hello." 

"Charming as ever. What would I do without you?" 

"Hm, dying in a warehouse, horribly beaten up? Trust me, it's not as fun as it sounds." 

Tim gapes at him and swats his chest with the back of his hand, looking scandalized. Jason laughs wildly amused. 

A second too late he realizes Tim's hand is lingering and just as he moves to take it in his own, Tim gasps and grabs the front of his suit. 

"Jason!" 

A sudden, piercing pain stabs through his side, making him grunt and stumble. Tim catches him immediately, supports his weight. The next thing he hears is a gunshot and a body crumbling to the floor. It fucking _hurts_. His entire left flank feels like it's on fire. 

"Oh God, Jay, are you okay?" Tim's hands are everywhere, cupping his cheek, touching his side. Sweat quickly gathers on his forehead before he notices he's been lowered to sit against a wall. 

"I'm a-ok, Red," he mutters, not exactly what he intended. Talking is painful, too, okay. 

"Put your hands here!", Tim begs and pushes Jason's hand over the burning spot on his side. Jason clenches teeth to prevent crying out. He's feeling utterly disoriented. 

"I'm sorry," the young man blurts out and wipes a hand down his face, leaving a bloody trail. "I didn't see him, I'm so sorry! I should've — of course, he had a knife! I'm sorry, Jay, I'm sorry!" 

Oh. A knife. Well, that certainly explains the searing pain as if stabbed. Go figure. 

"Shit! You're losing too much blood!" 

Tim's right. His gloves are drenched and his shirt and cargoes stick uncomfortably to his skin. Adding feeling lightheaded probably won't help, right? 

"We have to leave. Patch you up! _Now!_" 

Maybe it's because Jason's starting to feel a bit delirious, but does Tim sound actually worried? Absolutely terrified, yes, but it's the "I'm worried for your life" tone that's making his heart pump faster. Not the best timing, though, he'll admit that. 

Tim throws one of his arms over his shoulder and heaved him back up to stand on his feet, albeit very unsteady and weak. 

"Thanks," Jason slurs, leaning heavily on Tim's much smaller form while the kid drags him outside. 

"No, don't!", Tim chastises. "You don't get to say thanks! Stop—" He loses his grip and Jason almost falls face first into the ground, but by now that would've hurt a lot less. "You'll make it. It's not even that bad, huh? You're — you survived worse, you, err, god, you got killed and — and now you're going to die to a puny stab wound? Embarrassing, Hood, don't you think?" 

"Are you… crying?" 

"Shut up!" 

Jason's vision starts swimming and he tries to communicate it to Tim, but now that the adrenaline wears off, his panic rises and the beginnings of a panic attack fogs his helmet, making it hard to breathe. 

Thank God for Tim Drake. He throws his hood to the ground and lays a hand on his chest. 

"Stay with me, okay? You gotta. I won't let you die, Jason." 

"Idiot," he rasps and closes his eyes for a bit. Standing upright when your body protests quickly wears him out and dozing off for a couple of seconds sounds heavenly. 

"Hey! No, stay with me!", Tim pleads and roughly shakes him, but apologizes the instant Jason groans in pain. "Stay awake, for me, please!" 

Jason distantly progresses that he's manhandled on a bike, Tim taking the spot in the front. One of his dreams come true — spooning Tim in any scenario ever, but now there's too little blood in his veins to enjoy it or mess with Tim. Huh, another time, if he'll make it. 

"You can do to me whatever you want, as long as you make it through this, Jason!" 

"Oops…"

At least almost dying still has its perks. 


End file.
